


an evening of retreat

by troubadore



Series: sugar and spice witcher bingo fills [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Past Geralt/Yennefer, Pining, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Pre-OT3, implied geralt/jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28021017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/pseuds/troubadore
Summary: Her dark hair cascades in a thick waterfall over her shoulders, and her dress is as revealing and damnably tailored to her figure as ever. He meets her gaze after giving her form an appreciative once-over, and her red-painted lips curl up at the corners.He sits up in his chair and gives her his best patronizing sneer. "Are you lost? I believe theVindictive Bitch 101class is a few doors down the hall. Marx is teaching it this semester.""Actually," she shoots back without missing a beat, "I was looking forHow To Be A Clown In 10 Easy Steps, so I think I'm in the right place."orYennefer visits Jaskier in Oxenfurt after the mountain
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: sugar and spice witcher bingo fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052438
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	an evening of retreat

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo i am back with some soft yenskier pining over their witcher uwu 
> 
> this is meant to take place a couple years after the mountain but before the events of eps 7 and 8, jaskier and yennefer have settled into a friendship of their own (that also sometimes includes fucking but that's not important) and have realized they can both love geralt and each other equally and it's totally fine
> 
> this fills the "rainy day" space on my [sugar and spice witcher bingo](http://twitter.com/and_witcher) card

He doesn't notice her right away, and that in itself is almost as surprising as her presence in the first place. 

In his defense, it's not like he's expecting her. He's focused on deciding what material he's going to go over in his next lessons, and planning said lessons, and—funny enough, all things considered—it's not until he can smell her perfume, that telltale hint of lilac and gooseberries, that he looks up from the papers on his desk into bright lavender eyes. 

Her dark hair cascades in a thick waterfall over her shoulders, and her dress is as revealing and damnably tailored to her figure as ever. He meets her gaze after giving her form an appreciative once-over, and her red-painted lips curl up at the corners. 

He sits up in his chair and gives her his best patronizing sneer. "Are you lost? I believe the _Vindictive Bitch 101_ class is a few doors down the hall. Marx is teaching it this semester." 

"Actually," she shoots back without missing a beat, "I was looking for _How To Be A Clown In 10 Easy Steps,_ so I think I'm in the right place." 

There's a brief moment of silence between them as they continue to regard each other with cool gazes, and then he breaks into a genuine grin the same time she does, and they laugh together. He pushes up from his desk and moves around it to embrace her in a tight hug that she returns in earnest. 

"It's good to see you, Yenna," he murmurs into her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. "Gods, but I've missed you, my dear." 

"You too, Jaskier," she says. She pulls away but stays within the circle of his arms. Her eyes are soft as she looks up at him. "You look well." 

"A combination of good genes and a talent for bullshitting," he says cheerfully. Truthfully, he's absolutely exhausted; too many nights spent staying up until the dawn hours on lesson plans and composing is wearing on him, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. 

Well. Maybe he'd trade it for nights beneath the stars at the side of a certain witcher companion, but that's neither here nor there. 

Her tendency of skimming surface thoughts hasn't waned a bit, if the knowing, sympathetic look she gives him is any indication, but she lets it lie and allows him an indulgent, distracting kiss. He's missed the way her soft mouth curves against his, the always-present taste of spiced wine on her tongue to go with the gooseberries, and he savors it for the long moment they're joined. 

Their noses continue to brush together after they part, simply basking in the closeness. She looks well, too, healthy and vibrant and as powerful as ever. Her eyes have regained that spark she'd had before that damned dragon hunt, the one that had been missing in those months following it when they'd first come together in their heartache and hurt. 

There's still a shadow of it if he looks closely; it's hidden beneath the glow of her chaos, but he knows she still yearns to be important to someone—not for her powers, but for _herself._ She'd had a taste of it, with Geralt, and she craves it again, but she wants it to be real—no djinn wishes, no magic involved at all. 

He knows what that's like, to want simple, uncomplicated love and acceptance. Maybe that's why they get along so well, now. 

Eventually, he thinks to ask, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Surely you're not here just for me." 

"And if I were?" she asks, coy and teasing as ever. Her lips press against his, feather-light, and then she pulls away, stepping back out of his arms. "I do like you, you know." 

He frowns in mock concern, reaching out as if to press his hand to her forehead. "Are you sure you're alright? Are you truly Yennefer of Vengerberg? The stunningly beautiful yet terrifying sorceress I know would never admit to liking _me,_ of all people!" 

She bats his hand away with a snort, but her lips are curled in a smile. "Stop it. I'm not here to flatter or inflate your ego, bard." She keeps a hold of his hand and twines their fingers together in complete contradiction to her words, though. 

"That sounds more like the Yenna I know!" 

He pulls her close again and steals one more kiss before releasing her hand and going back to his desk. He gathers his students' homework and his lesson plans, everything in a haphazardly organized pile that he tucks under his arm. Making sure he hasn't left anything important behind, he joins her again and they leave the classroom together, making their way through the bustling halls of the Academy until they're out under the late evening sun. 

"Do you have a room yet?" 

"Is yours available?" 

He has to grin at the suggestion; he'd been planning to make it himself, in truth. She flutters her lashes at him, tempting and enticing, and he resists the urge to reach for her hand again. 

The early spring air is still cool from the winter, but it's pleasant on their skin as they walk to his humble little apartment off campus. It carries the heavy scent of coming rain, though the sky remains clear and cloudless. If they're lucky, it'll hold off for a few more days, and he'll be able to take her around to some of his favorite spots in the city before she portals back out of his life once again. 

It's not as sad a thought as it could be. She'll come back if only because she's bored, and he'll be more than happy to entertain her as long as she needs. 

  
  


The morning dawns grey and dreary, and Jaskier leans against the wall beside the window looking out over his tiny garden, a mug of tea in hand. Rain pours from the thick clouds, a steady drizzle that's beginning to turn the roads to mud. 

He can feel the crackle of her chaos in the air when Yennefer enters the room, and he looks over his shoulder to give her a smile. She's wearing one of his shirts, unlaced and slipping from one shoulder, and nothing else, leaving her smooth skin and long legs on display. 

She comes up and wraps her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Looks like that picnic in the courtyard of Oxenfurt is off the agenda today, hm?" 

"Looks like it," he agrees, with less disappointment than he thought. He kisses her head, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "Guess we'll have to find... _other_ ways to occupy ourselves for the day." 

It gets him the smirk he was looking for, and she laughs softly as he kisses her properly, slow and deep and lingering. Her hands wander over his bare torso, trailing low to pull at the laces of his trousers, and he just barely manages to set his tea aside before giving her his full attention once again. 

Later, as they curl up together for a light lunch, the shadows make themselves known; she goes quiet, thoughtful, and her gaze is distant as she stares out at the rain. 

"I hate that I miss him so much, even now," she says, and her voice cracks only a little. "I still feel the pull to him, you know? It never fucking goes away. And I hate it—I hate being drawn to him like this. Knowing it's not—it's not because we _wanted_ it." 

He says nothing, because he can't quite relate—he'd followed because he'd wanted to, not because a wish or Destiny had made him do it. He still wants to, if he's being honest. If Geralt came to his door and asked him back to the Path tomorrow, he'd go in a heartbeat. It's his own sort of destiny, he thinks, to love a witcher meant for much greater things than a simple, humble bard. 

But he does pull her a little closer, lets her tuck her head beneath his chin. 

"I just—" She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and lets it out slowly. "I want to want him. I just don't know if I can trust that it's real. Like with you. _You're_ real. He—I can't know." 

It's quiet between them for a long moment, just the sound of the rain against the roof and the windows. He thinks about his words, wondering if he should share them or keep them in his chest. 

"If it's important to you," he murmurs, choosing his words, "if _he's_ important to you—does it matter if it's because of magic or not? Why not have it anyway?" 

"Would we have wanted it without the magic, though?" She scoffs. "Would we be important to each other if we weren't bound? How can I know I—" 

_How can I know I'm important to him in the way I want to be?_

She can't, he supposes. 

Maybe the wish simply meant they'd cross paths, but what they made of it was their own choice—but maybe it influenced how they interacted, shaped it into something they thought they wanted. Maybe they wouldn't have looked twice at each other without it. 

He doubts it. In his heart, he feels that Geralt and Yennefer would have been drawn together regardless—and they were, a bit. There had been a spark of _something_ when they'd first locked eyes across a room full of enchanted townspeople. 

And he knows his witcher: Geralt falls hard and fast and deep, despite his efforts to the contrary, despite his denial that he's capable of love in the first place. Something about Yennefer—her chaos, her charm, her own fight to rise above her circumstances, whatever it was—had tempted him, intrigued him, and he fully believes she'd have become important to him, wish or no wish. 

She _had,_ actually. The whole wish was because he hadn't wanted to lose her, because she was important enough to him to want to keep. It's clear as day for him to see. 

He just wishes he had the words to make her see it, too. 

The sound of the rain grows louder, and they watch as it turns from a drizzle to an absolute downpour outside. Thunder rolls overhead, and he thinks he can feel it in his bones. He's always liked the sound of thunder, deep and rumbling, like his witcher's voice. It comforts him now, imagining low, content hums around a campfire beneath the stars. 

"Well," he finally says, keeping his voice light and holding her tighter, "I think, personally, that you're very important, both to him, because I know him, and I know you're important to him—trust me, I'm an expert in Geralt of Rivia—and to me, and that should count for something." 

It makes her laugh, soft and breathy, and he smiles against her temple as he presses a kiss to it. She tilts her head back and he meets that glowing lavender gaze with tenderness and fondness and love in his own, melting into the kiss she gives him. 

"Thank you, Jaskier," she says, kissing him again. "I'm glad I have you." 

"Of course you are," he agrees jovially, pinching her side and grinning when she glares at him. "I'm a godsdamned gift to this world." 

"I think the world needs to return you to sender." 

"You'd miss this pretty face too much if I weren't here, witch. And my songs. And everything about me, really, and you know it—" 

"Don't push your luck, bard." 

They continue to trade barbs and bicker as the rain pours outside, the afternoon fading into evening and then into night. He holds her close, and he hopes she knows how important she is to him. 

  
  


He wakes in the morning alone, the sheets still warm and smelling of lilac and gooseberries. On the empty pillow beside his own, there's a folded piece of parchment. He picks it up carefully, letting it fall open and smiling at the beautiful scrawl he's come to recognize over the recent years. 

_You're important to him, too, more than he knows. Maybe even more than I ever will be. He needs you in a way he's never needed me._

_Give him my love for me—I'm not quite ready yet, I think. And keep some for yourself, too. I've got enough for both of you, I'm realizing._

_Don't stop loving him._

_Y_

Jaskier sets the note down as carefully as he'd picked it up and looks out the window. The rain has stopped, and the sky is clear once again. He can hear birdsong and smell the clean scent left behind from the storm. 

It'll be a nice day on the Path, he thinks, and pushes himself out of bed to get dressed and pack his bag. 

He's got a witcher to meet up with. 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu [twitter](http://twitter.com/troubadorer) // [tumblr](http://geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek.tumblr.com)


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